


weathered and faded

by what_hasnt_been_taken_yet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Compliant, God tiers, M/M, The Game is over - Freeform, sad boys, this went in a much better direction than i expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28665054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet/pseuds/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet
Summary: You've beat the game. So why don't you feel accomplished? Let's dive into that.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	weathered and faded

You did it.

Six months of your life, spent dicking around on various dead planets uncovering ruins and puzzles and skeletons and all the other things you used to practically worship before the riptide of disenchantment swept you out to sea, and suddenly, in a rush of action that you’d barely understood or gone along with, the game was over. You’d beaten Sburb- or really, your friends, both old and new, had beaten it, while you sat to the side and drank tea with little green men from Mars. And by “drank tea with” you mean “got your ass literally pummeled into next week and back by”. Hell, some of them weren’t that little, either, and you’re pretty sure they weren’t actually from Mars.

Fact of the matter is, you contributed very little to the whole "Beat The Game" thing. In fact, you might have contributed the least out of everyone, aside from maybe the really loud, angry troll guy who helped you take down exactly one of the green dudes. Though even he seems to have done more work than you, as he’d apparently been knocked out for his own safety and _still_ chose to join the ghost army’s fight in his dreams, which is so much more than anything your cowardly ass would have been able to do. Plus, he seems to be an important guy with lots of responsibilities in the future- which was why he was put to sleep in the first place, to keep him out of danger- and you’re… not.

So, of course, it doesn’t feel real that you’re standing on this floating platform now, suspended in space in front of the cerulean globe of Skaia. The glowing red facade of a house is set before you, ethereal light emanating from it, but all you can think as you stare at that glowing portal to a new universe is that you didn’t _earn_ it, and you certainly don’t deserve it. Of course, that doesn’t hold true for your friends, since they actually managed to take down some head honchos while you received a leprechaun smackdown. It's only true for you. You, who did jack all to achieve this outcome, and yet here’s the Ultimate Reward, capitalized for narrative significance, presented to you almost mockingly. Here are all your friends, celebrating their success, weary and beaten but downright _cheerful_ , and you can barely even bring yourself to participate in the congratulatory mess. Because, again, you were hardly any help at all.

Even if you had been, though, you don’t know if you would be able to join in their enthusiasm, because things are so weird between the people you really care about most, the ones you’ve known the longest. You could maybe talk to Roxy, as she’s the one case where things haven’t been irrevocably fucked, except she’s enjoying herself so much chatting with her daughter-mom and Jane that it’d feel wrong, and a little awkward, for you to impose just to have someone to talk to. There’s also Callie, you suppose, but you’ve only just met her in person and you think she’s still a bit overwhelmed due to being alive again. You wish, for some idiotic reason, that Tavrosprite was around- or Gcatavrosprite now, you guess. He at least makes for a decent conversational partner- that is, when he’s not constantly sneezing. He might just end up being your best friend in the next universe if you can’t muster the nerve to talk to anyone else.

“Hey.” You freeze at the voice, because of course you recognize it immediately, even with a single spoken word. It’s a voice you know intimately, every pattern and flow of syllables carved into your memory indelibly. It’s also the one you’ve been most dreading to hear. You turn slowly to face him, though your eyes stay aimed at the looping pattern of swirls and interlocking lines that ring the edge of the platform.

“Oh! Uh, hey, Dirk.” You’ll keep it casual, you decide suddenly, because you have no idea why he’s decided to approach you, and you think it’s best to play it neutral until he reveals his purpose. You won’t bring up any of the weirdness between you two, or the unresolved problems. That’s what you do best, isn’t it? You avoid problems, pretend like everything’s hunky-dory, deflect until you’re blue in the face. It’s worked out _so_ well for you in the past, you don’t see any reason to stop now. 

“So we beat the game,” he starts, and you know him well enough to catch the uncertainty edging his words. You both left things so badly the last time you talked, all thanks to your many immaculate screw-ups. And of course, you hadn’t taken the chance to say anything for the little bit you’d seen him right before you were all sent off to battle. Needless to say it hit you like a ton of bricks when you’d arrived at the platform to witness Jane work her magic healing powers to reattach Dirk’s head. Even though you knew that Dirk would be fine and that his immortal life would most likely never be put in danger again, it still pained you to realize that you’d almost lost him without having the opportunity to fix things. You don’t think you would have been able to forgive yourself if that had happened. You promised to yourself, right then and there, that you would at least make the attempt to mend the relationship between you, and yet here you are, posturing like a coward.

“Sure seems like we did! Though I don’t recall ever putting in my pound of hard work towards this grand denouement.” And there you go, immediately revealing your _other_ anxieties like a right dingus. You mistakenly thought that it would be smart to bring them up just because they were slightly easier to talk about.

“Eh, we all had our part to play, and yours was just as important. _Someone_ had to take care of… uh… the green guys? Who the fuck even _were_ those assholes, anyway?”

You snort at that, hazarding a glance up to meet Dirk’s bewildered expression, and somewhere in the back of your head a little voice screams that you missed him. “Just a bunch of time-traveling goons that worked for one of the Jack Noirs.”

“God damn fucking Noirs, always grasping for whatever power is in their reach like a doomsday prepper going to a supermarket. And of course the narrative decides to gift us lucky bastards with three sessions’ worth of Jacks, as if one murder-happy Agent ain’t enough.”

“Heh, yeah. It certainly looks like you and your bro and that one troll girl had your hands plenty full with just the two. You know, considering…” You trail off as your eyes find themselves fixed on Dirk’s newly healed scar, the clean, thin line wrapping its way around his neck, just under his Adam’s apple. You watch the skin shift as he swallows, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly, and you realize that you’ve probably brought this up at the worst possible time. He was brought back not even ten minutes ago, and there you go, mentioning it out of the blue like the complete asshole you are. You tug at the little fringed collar of your god tier outfit and try to salvage the conversation. “Anyway, that’s all taken care of, now, so unless we somehow missed one, there won’t be any more Jacks hounding us incessantly.”

Dirk doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly, so you take the opportunity to look him over. His mouth is pressed into its usual neutral position, except for you it’s anything but _usual_. You’re used to his smiles: the small smirks that quirked his lips whenever you made a fool of yourself; the much bigger grins that came when you cracked a joke; and the lift of a corner after you pulled away from a kiss. You’re used to his frowns, too: the jokingly disappointed ones whenever you managed to one-up him in banter; the uncertain ones he would try to hide whenever you complimented him too much; and the disappointed ones that became far too frequent when you started arriving late to your little excursions, or when you blew him off again and again, or when you eventually avoided him completely. You almost never saw this flatness, though, at least not when you two were alone. He never shut you out, not even when you increasingly gave him the cold shoulder, so now that you’re faced with this stoic mask you don’t know how to interpret it.

He doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk any time soon, so you guess you’ll have to prompt him. “What brings you around my neck of the woods?”

Dirk shrugs, the movement calculatedly small. “Just wanted to catch up. Ask what’s going on.”

“Right, of course.” Your first real conversation after he broke up with you- not that you can really consider that a conversation when you were both hyped up on sugary cherub drugs- and it’s going about as well as you expected. “Well, I’ve just been standing around here, doing absolutely diddly squat. I’m not too sure what we’re waiting for, exactly.”

“Just for the queens’ rings to be destroyed, so the Genesis Frog can be released into Skaia and we can enter the new universe. Shouldn’t take too long.”

You nod, though you understood about half of that. You realize you’re still staring at his lips and tear your gaze away, because he’s liable to notice at some point. You find yourself looking over his new outfit instead. The few times you’d seen him in it before, you hadn’t really had a moment to take in his god tier pajamas, only noting the bright, pinkish-maroon of the ensemble and the embossed heart on his chest. Now, though, you process everything- the puffy shorts that look only a little ridiculous, the frankly kickass gloves, the tights that do wonders in accentuating his calves, the little green slippers. It’s not all bad- at least the color scheme is flattering, and there are enough cool aspects to outweigh the lamer ones. You’re once again put in mind of your own embarrassing outfit, all too aware of the bareness of your thighs. Though the lack of pants isn't the only thing you hate about your attire, it definitely takes the cake as the worst part. There’s also your weird, spiked collar and your dumbly pointed hood. Hell, even the second set of sleeves annoys you, though you can’t begin to place why. Oh, well. At least the powers-that-be deigned to give you long socks. You’d rather cover the top portion of your legs, but you’ll take what you can get. It’s hard enough to get comfortable talking to Dirk, never mind that your lower half is so incredibly exposed.

Because you continue to be a grade-A idiot, you decide to fill the silence with your thoughts. “I have to say, Dirk, your outfit is rather flattering! Much better than my horrendously mortifying costume! It’s far too revealing of my gams, wouldn’t you say?” You slap your thigh lightly, as if to point out what’s obvious to everyone on this platform, all the while wondering why in the fucking dickens you would _want_ to draw more attention to them.

Dirk snorts, though one hand rubs at the back of his head. You get the feeling he’s trying hard not to stare at your legs, and you really appreciate the attempt at modesty, especially given how difficult you’re probably making it for him. “Naw, man, are you kidding? Are you even looking at my little poofy asshole pants? Nothing is worse than these.”

“That’s absolute claptrap, Dirk. I’m wearing godly underwear. I’d argue that’s leagues worse than your fluffed-up shorts.”

He’s giving you the smallest of grins, which you’ll take as progress. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible topic to land on, embarrassment be damned. At least that's something you can handle. You’re used to making yourself out to be an absolute clown. “Alright, maybe the banana hammock is kind of completely awful. But the rest of the outfit isn’t _too_ bad.”

“Sure, it’s not terrible, but it certainly isn’t great! You at least have the sweet fingerless gloves!”

“Okay, yeah, the gloves are a perk.” He tugs at the fabric of them, flexing his fingers and giving you a smirk. You just roll your eyes. “But you haven’t seen the most humiliating part of my outfit yet, dude.”

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be? Can’t be any worse than what I’m stuck with.”

“Well, first of all, we ain’t stuck in these. You’re allowed to change out of your god tier PJ’s.”

“Thank the heavens.”

“But no, while this part is pretty bad, I can’t say it’s as bad as your barely-there shorts. You ready for this?” Curious and a little mystified, you give him a thumbs-up, and in a lightning-quick movement he pulls his hood up and points to the hem at his hairline, where… is that… 

“Is that a _crown_?” you gasp, holding in a laugh.

“Worse. It's a fucking _tiara_. Sewn right into the goddamn hood. It ain’t even a real fucking tiara, either, which I would almost be okay with. All those diamonds and gems would’ve been pretty fucking baller. But no, instead I get a floppy fabric cutout of a crown. Disney World merch is more impressive than this headband-esque bullshit.”

You’re snickering by the end of his tirade. “Alright, you’ve made your point. The tiara is a personal insult to you and you alone.”

Dirk huffs out a laugh at that, pushing the hood back down and quickly swiping a hand through his hair. “Never gonna wear that goddamn hood, anyway. Fucks up my perfectly sculpted ‘do.”

“I don’t think I see a single follicle that isn’t in the proper place, and honestly I’m not surprised, given the amount of gel you put into crafting those weird spikes every day.”

“You telling me you don’t like my hair, bro?”

“I never said _that_. It’s your personal style and I’m not going to infringe on it with my opinion, which you should consider irrelevant in this matter.”

“So you hate it, then. Good to know.”

“Wh- I didn’t-”

“And for the record, I haven’t had a chance to put gel in it since ascending to god tier and then being sent halfway across the Medium, so this is all-natural Dirk Strider. Either that or there’s some dumb god-magic explanation, and honestly if that’s what’s going on then I don’t want to know about it.”

“That’s fair. Honestly I’ve had it up to my blasted eyeballs with all this magical bullhonky. I still haven’t the faintest clue what Hope is supposed to mean! That is, in regards to fancy powers and all that jazz. I know what lowercase-h hope means, obviously; it’s all about believing in people and in your dreams and whatnot! Dunno how exactly I’m supposed to apply that, magic-wise. And with the whole Page designation, I’m lost like a babe in the woods, though that expression doesn't make much sense for me, since I was rather adept at finding my way through a forest at a very young age. It isn't as if figuring out my powers really matters now, I suppose, since the game is over and I’ve no need to use them anymore. But it’s kind of a bummer that I never really got to unlock that ‘untapped Page potential’ everyone kept telling me about. Guess I’ll never know what the fuss was all for!” You pause in your unprompted rant to catch your breath and note Dirk’s eyebrows have raised, probably shocked at your outburst. You’re pretty shocked, too. You didn’t know you could just let out all your pent-up frustration like that. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go off like that. I dunno where the devil that came from!”

“It’s fine, man.” Dirk crosses his arms, tilting his head ever-so-slightly at you. It’s a stance you recognize, one indicative of a Dirk-brand lecture. “Frankly, I probably ain’t the person to talk about this shit with, and not just because I ain’t got a single shitting idea what a Page of Hope is supposed to be able to do. But if you want my honest opinion, you’re better off not knowing.” Your jaw must drop open at that, because he raises his palm to you in a little ‘hold up’ gesture. “Lemme explain. I got Prince of Heart, right? Used to think that sounded lame as all hell, until Callie explained that it basically parsed as Destroyer of Souls, and _that_ was something I was pretty psyched for. And yeah, while at first it seemed badass to be able to rip a person’s soul outta their body, it…” He hesitates, his mouth turned down nearly imperceptibly- the only sign he’s struggling with what to say, with being so open. “It takes its toll. It’s fucking _terrifying_. I never even really used them that way, not on an actual _person_ , at least. Though… there’s versions of me out there who have. And that’s another thing- being conscious of all these alternate universe Dirks, these _doomed_ versions of me- I didn’t sign up for that.” You watch as he sighs, a hand tearing through his hair again, but you don’t interject. “Look, all I’m saying is, yeah, we don’t know what you can do, and chances are, with a title like Page of Hope, it’s probably not as morally questionable as _my_ fucking abilities. But if you ask me, I’d tell you I wish I didn’t know what I was capable of. I wish I wasn’t even fucking capable of it in the first place. If I was back there now, facing the decision to die on that goddamn Quest Bed, I might just fucking say to hell with the conditional immortality, because the powers aren’t worth it.”

You blink at him, a little shell-shocked, because you were not expecting that much truth from Dirk Strider, especially not right now. “Wow. Um…”

“Sorry if that was a lot. I probably sound like a privileged dick right now, especially since most of the trolls didn’t achieve godhood.”

You put up both hands. “No, no! It’s fine. It’s just… you have a wildly different perspective on the whole thing than I do. I dunno how much of it I agree with, per se, but I might need to think on it more. You’ve given me quite a lot to chew on, Dirk!”

“Gotta give you your daily dose of thought. It’s part of a healthy diet. Would be irresponsible not to provide you that.”

You chuckle. “Well, bro, don’t feel obligated to do that for every conversation! I have rather enough on my plate as is, so I don’t think my diet needs any more assistance.”

Dirk pulls down his shades to wink at you, and something like fireworks explodes in your chest, warring emotions burning within. “I’ll have to talk to your dietician before I make any decisions.”

You screwed up your relationship with him. It’s as simple as that. You don’t know what compelled you to drive him away- you guess you wanted space, or perhaps you were just scared- but you know it’s all on you, and you’re pretty convinced that the sharp, stabbing guilt will never go away, even if you do manage to fix your friendship with him. You want to fix more than just that, of course, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. Not now, though, because you both need time to heal before trying to start over, or you’re bound to repeat the same mistakes. But maybe one day, when that guilt has dulled and softened, you’ll be able to take that next step into empty space, falling in love as you do, and hoping- no, _trusting_ that he’ll catch you again. “Dirk, I… about what happened between us, I feel-”

“No,” he interrupts you, his voice stern, surprising you in its forcefulness. You must look downright crestfallen, though, because he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and when he speaks again, his voice has softened considerably. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I just meant that maybe we shouldn’t talk about it here. But…” He reaches out and gently takes one of your hands in both of his, firm yet yielding, and the gesture holds within it a promise. “We will. When we’re in the new universe.”

Though the words are simple, he says them with a steady assurance, and you can almost feel a quiet yearning thrumming through every point his skin meets yours. It’s the kind of thing that makes you, well, _hopeful_.

From the corner of your eye, you notice someone coming up to you, and Dirk quickly drops your hand, which leaves a pang running through you. You turn to see one of the trolls- Terezi, you think- marching up to you both, cane clacking with her steps. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people, lemon-scented John and watered-down Dave.”

You scrunch your nose up at the mild diss, but Dirk just glances at her coolly. “Damn, Terezi, watered-down Dave? I thought we built more of a rapport than that. Wasn’t fighting the Jacks together enough to distinguish me from my bro?”

“Nope!” She pops the P in the word, grinning wickedly in Dirk’s direction. “Besides, I’m the one who did all the work there. You Striders were nothing but dead weight! Well, maybe not Dave, since he actually got the final blow, but _you_ definitely were.” She cackles, poking Dirk with her cane.

Well, then. She just put it right out there, didn’t she. You had the decency to avoid the subject, and she brings it up like his death meant nothing. That’s just how trolls are, you guess, completely unperturbed by mortality. Fortunately, Dirk doesn’t look annoyed at the comment. In fact, you think you almost see a smirk there. “Oh, I get it. It’s funny because I died.”

“Exactly!” She sniffs at you, her expression curious, and you find yourself wondering what exactly it is she’s able to smell. “You guys aren’t boring, right? I was getting tired of the disgustingly sweet Egbert Reunion show, and no one could pay me to get between the Dave and Karkat bro-hug or whatever the fuck Kanaya and Rose are doing, so you two are my last resort. If I have to hear one more sappy friendship overture I might just snap.”

“Don’t worry, we’re fresh out of sap over here. Our trees were all tapped dry years ago.” Dirk elbows you, clearly trying to encourage you to speak, and you shake off your conversational paralysis as best you can.

“Yeah, we were just wrapping up our sentimental rubbish. You’ll get nothing but senseless jokes from us fellows.”

“Perfect. All the hugging is making me feel weird. Why spend our last moments in this awful session rubbing our bodies together? Humans are so gross.”

“Do trolls not hug?” you ask, because you can’t help but be a little interested.

“Not usually! Especially not their friends. Don’t know if you noticed, Mr. John-lookalike, but trolls aren’t exactly the most affectionate species.”

“That’s not what I’ve gathered,” a new voice cuts in, lilting and amused. Rose, Roxy’s ectodaughter- and you suppose Dirk’s as well, which is a weird concept that you are going to stop thinking about immediately- raises her hand in greeting, smiling coyly at the three of you. Dirk waves back, so you suppose they’ve already built something of a rapport. “My experiences with trolls has led me to believe that they are _far_ more affectionate than they pretend to be.”

“Only because you’re macking on Kanaya all the time,” Terezi throws back, sticking her tongue out at Rose. “I’m sure you’ve had more than enough _affection_ from her.”

Rose's eyes flit to the side, and she covers her smirk with one hand. “That’s true enough, I suppose, but I was not referring to just Kanaya. Between Karkat practically hanging onto me, weeping, after finishing a particularly tragic novel and Vriska invading my personal space constantly to bother me, I’d say the trolls are far more drawn towards the simple comfort of physical touch.”

Well, there’s certainly some Dirk in her. Terezi scoffs at Rose, waving her away. “Whatever. At least _I_ knew better than to adopt vile human customs.”

The banter continues for a few minutes, and you actually manage to throw in a sentence or two. You’re not sure what about your talk with Dirk made it so that you were no longer completely intimidated by all these new people, but you’re glad for it. You were making a bit of a fool of yourself, being too anxious to talk, when they all seem _mostly_ pleasant. The conversation eventually dies down, though, as the sky lights up behind you.

You all turn and watch, awestruck, as the Genesis Frog takes its place in Skaia, its psychedelic skin shimmering with color, a cosmic oil slick swirling in space. In a blink, the crimson house in front of you flips around, flashing a bright white, and the outline of a door carves itself into being, the doorknob pulsing with energy. The portal to a new universe. You don’t know why you were expecting something a little more… grandiose.

Still, everyone turns to each other with anticipatory glances, especially when Jade pulls a shrunken, waterlogged Earth from her sylladex, grinning determinedly at the door. No one says a word as she reaches for the knob, arcs of light flickering towards her palm, and twists the it open. One by one, your friends start to follow.

Right before you claim your Ultimate Reward, you look back at Dirk. He gives you a nod, small but encouraging, and you beam back at him. You haven’t a clue what’ll happen in the new universe, and that uncertainty certainly makes you afraid, but you can at least rest easy knowing that Dirk will be there with you, right by your side, no matter what. The thought is enough to banish whatever fears you have.

With bated breath and hope in your heart, you step through the door.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic ive gotten remotely emotional over while writing so. theres that.  
> if you liked this and want more follow me on twitter @lucidlyLucid


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